


Fourteen Angels

by Majure



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Idk how to spell Cadeuceus clay but hes in here, M/M, gratuitous ellipses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 07:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15456210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majure/pseuds/Majure
Summary: It takes nine days and twelve hours to bring him back. Caleb copes - or tries to.Companion piece to 'For all the little dreamers'.





	Fourteen Angels

**Author's Note:**

> Im slowly losing hope that molly will return especially with what has been said at SDCC. But who knows! I know we'll see him again somehow but i hope he comes back as a PC. 
> 
> Anyway this is my super self indulgent fic lol  
> Sorry for typos. My phone sucks and the autocorrect doesnt work

It has been nine days and twelve hours when it happens. Nine days and twelve hours spent aching, angry and desperate. Nine days spent focused on the goal so the reward wouldn't distract them. Nine days where only three of the Nein are together where three others are shackled somewhere, and one lies buried under earth and snow. 

It is the last one that causes Caleb the most grief, though when a newly liberated Jester is crying into his coat collar later, he will not tell her how he mourned Mollymauk more. He will not say anything when she asks where Molly is, and he will look away as Beau's eyes fill with tears for the hundredth time. 

He will not say anything as Yasha roars her anger into the sky and punches one the wooden cages surrounding them so hard it splinters. Does not say anything as Fjord curses and kicks at the dirt, a hand coming up to run through his hair. 

Says nothing as Beau and Jester rapidly discuss the possibility of resurrection, huddled together and holding each other as they whisper. 

Clay makes the rounds and heals people with gentle touches and quiet murmurs. When he comes to Caleb, who is sitting on the floor staring at the dirt, Caleb flinches away from his touch. 

Clay's brows furrow with pity as his head tilts, a strand of pink hair falling in front of his face. "Are you alright?" He asks in his soft, careful manner. 

"I am fine," Caleb manages. It isnt quite a lie; he had sustained no injuries past the few scrapes and scratches of the fight. His head is swirling though, gut clenching. His hands are shaking, but he grips the fabric of his coat so Clay can't see. 

Judging by the way Clay smiles pityingly and stands, he doesn't quite believe Caleb, but he's smart enough to leave well enough alone. Jester it seems is quite interested in this new companion, and raises her head long enough to motion him over towards her huddle with Beau. 

Caleb ducks his head into his arms and tries to block out Clay's tender voice, and the voice that's missing. 

They spend no more than two hours recouping before they set off on the road. They grab a cart previously owned by the Iron Shepherds and a pair of horses from the stables. Fjord and Jester are both too weak to walk and Caleb's shaking has sped up, so they sit silently in the cart while Beau drives. Yasha strides alongside the cart angrily, saying nothing and glowering at the ground. She's limping a little, but the injury does nothing to hinder her angry stomps. 

Above them, the sun slowly descends and the sky turns grey. Nott takes over driving, so Beau bundles up and lies down in the bottom of the cart. Time is too valuable to stop, so they continue even when snow begins to drift from the sky. 

A little past midnight, Caleb touches Nott's shoulder and sends her off to bed. She acquiesces and sits down, shooting a questioning look at Caleb. He grips the reigns tightly, hoping to still the rising nervousness in his gut. 

Several minutes pass in silence before Fjord says, "How did it happen?" 

He speaks barely above a whisper, but the sound still startles Caleb. When his heart settles again, he says, "Stabbed. Lorenzo." 

"I see." A beat. "How long?" 

"Fjord I - I really don't want to talk about it." 

"I'm...sorry, Caleb. I wish we'd been there." 

"Ja, I wish you had been as well." Caleb glances over his shoulder. "Then this mess would have been avoided." 

Fjord looka down, abashed, and Caleb curses himself. He shouldn't blame them for the circumstances. It was bad luck. Terrible luck, like the kind that follows him everywhere he goes. 

Nothing else is said until Keg settles in next to Caleb and relieves him to go sleep. Nott burrows into his side as he sits next to her, the only spot of warmth in the cart. The chilly night air stings his face and lungs, but not enough to keep him from dozing off til morning. 

He's awoken by light shining across his face and the rattle of the cart as it passes through a gate. Caleb sits up, looking around as they pass into Ophelia Mardune's estate. Keg is still hunched over the reigns. She glances back at him, and he can see bags under her eyes. "Morning," she drawls." 

"Morning." Caleb stands and Nott shifts, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her palm. "You drove all night?" 

"Wasn't like it was too long." The cart rolls to a stop as one of the guards outside runs to inform the mistress of the house who has arrived. Keg shrugs one shoulder and digs around in her bag for a cigar. "Besides. I thought you guys needed your sleep." 

"Thanks." 

The guard returns and motions them through. Keg is about to urge the horses forward before Caleb stops her and hops out of the cart. "I will go alone," he says. Fjord and Jester, who have now awoken, stare at him from the cart. 

"Caleb?" Jester asks in a frightened voice. 

"I'll be fine," he says, determined, then softens his face and nods at them, before turning and striding into the manor. 

Ophelia is waiting for him in the foyer at the foot of the stairs, one clawed finger tracing patterns on the banister. "So," she greets him in Zemnian. "You've done it?" 

"We have. I believe you owe us." 

Ophelia smiles a toothy smile. "So forward with your intentions, mister Widogast. Would you like to stay a while? Rest and recoup?" 

"No," Caleb saya firmly. He is so close - they are ao close - to having Molly back. To being the Mighty Nein again. They are running out of time and Caleb cannot wait. 

Ophelia shrugs. "Very well. My cleric is at your command." 

Caleb can feel the relief flow through him and he almost stumbles. "Thank you," he says and strides forward, taking her hand before he knows what he's doing. He grips it almost uncomfortably tight. "Thank you." 

Ophelia withdraws her hand delicately. "Anything for such dedicated workers." 

She motions, and from the shadows a figure in black appears. He's a tall elven man, with dark hair and eyes, dressed in a black cloak and soft black robes. There is a holy symbol hanging from his waist. He bows first to Ophelia and then to Caleb, before motioning towards the door. 

"Shall we?" 

Caleb leaves the room in a flourish, walking with renewed purpose. Nott and Clay are standing outside when he appears with the Cleric, and Nott brightens. "You got him!" 

"I did." Caleb hops back into the cart. For the first time since Molly died, he feels a warm thread of hope curl tightly around his being like a comforting arm. 

"Who is this man?" Yasha asks from her place at the front of the cart as the cleric climbs in. She seems to have usurped Keg as cart driver and now has the reigns wrapped around her wrists. 

"He will bring Molly back," Caleb says, looking over at the man. "Yes? You will do this for us?" 

"I will certainly try," he says smoothly. Thats all they can really ask for. 

Two days pass in agonizing slowness as they make their way through the woods towards Molly's buried body. The closer they get, the more energy seems to coil up inside Caleb. The nights he spends pacing and the days he spenda walking alongside the cart until his feet are too leaden to move. 

Jester and Fjord become aquainted with their new cleric, and Yasha stews in quiet anger. Clay and Jester become fast friends and it burns Caleb up inside. 

The day they reach the upright post and mound of earth, it has been nine days. The sky is purple grey. Snow is gently carpeting the world in white as the cart stops on the road. 

The coat is still there, against all odds, and Caleb wants to reach out and bundle it against his chest. 

But he waits. He waits as Yasha pulls out the post, puts the coat in a neat pile on the ground, and begins to dig. Jester insists that she help despite her weakened state. Caleb would cast earthen grasp again, to help dig, but he doesnt want to risk hurting Molly's body. 

It takes a few agonizing moments before he is well and truly unburied. Yasha jumps into the shallow grave and retrieves his shrouded body. Reverently, she lies him on the ground and pulls the tapestry back. Caleb almost gasps at the sight, a weeks worth of pain hidden away behind a wall finally overflowing. 

Molly doesn't look a day changed. He doesn't look like he's sleeping. His face is too ashen and pale, and there are stray marks of blood and dirt on his face. The peacock tattoo stands out painfully bright against his grey skin. 

Yasha pulls away and wipes at her eyes. Beau leans into her, head bowed, tears dripping onto the snow. Jester wails and Fjord wraps an arm around her, pressing his nose into her hair. Keg looks away. Clay is mournful, quiet, eyes fixed on Caleb.

The cleric spreads his hands. "If you'll please step away." 

Yasha begrudgingly moves backwards a few steps, but remains hovering, a watchful eye on Molly. He begins to chant in a language none of them know. His hands, clutching his holy symbol, begin to glow. "If you would like to assist," he says, voice strained, "Now would be the time." 

Beau goes first, falling to her knees. Caleb can't hear what she says, but he watches as she pulls his cards out of her pocket and tucks them under his hands. She kisses his forehead and only moves when Yasha kneels down beside her. 

"You better come back, Mollymauk Tealeaf," Yasha growls. Her hands find the sides of his face. "I need you." Then she kisses him as well, tears leaving shining droplets on his skin. 

There is a long, terrible moment where no one else moves. Caleb startles as Nott hits him in the hip, and gestures angrily at the corpse. She is crying as well, clutching her flask close to her face. Caleb takes a jerky step forward, then another and another, until he is kneeling next to Molly. 

"I do not know what to say," he chokes past the lump in his throat. "Or what to do. I have not...had the opportunity to bring back someone who was dear to me. But if there is a first time for everything, but if there is, let this be that time. You said you believed in second chances, Mollymauk. Hold true to your word." 

Slowly, he unwinds the ratty scarf from around his neck and lifts Molly's head so he can place it around his shoulders. "You look dreadully cold," Caleb manages befors his tears begin to run freely down his face. 

He doesn't move even as the cleric finishes casting his spell. He closes his eyes, shoulders hunched. There is light, and the feeling of powerful magic rushes across his body. Whem he opens his eyes again, Molly is staring up at the grey sky with wide red eyes. 

Caleb stares in disbelief. Molly sucks in a deep breath and a hand that had been resting on his chest grabs as if searching for something. He turns to look at Caleb but says nothing. There is a terrible moment where he thinks that Molly has forgotten, that this qas all for nothing and that their Molly is gone forever - and then Molly smiles. 

"What's there to cry about, my dear?" He rasps. One hand comes up and wipes at the tears on his face. Caleb throws his arms around Molly, abandoning all thoughts of propriety or shyness. Molly's breath whoofs out of him, but two arms come up to encircle him. 

"You wouldn't want me to die after you've just gotten me back," he wheezes. Caleb loosens a little. He's still crying, but there's a smile as he helps Molly to his feet. 

"Where's my coat?" Molly announces to the crowd. "Its awfully chilly." 

At once, Jester is there and crying into his chest. Yasha, too, is pressed against him. Beau is pretending not to sob and doing an awful job of it, burying her face in Yasha's side. 

Nott is also there, weeping. Fjord is staring at the sky as though it might stop the flow of emotion. And Molly is in the center of it all, laughing. "Really now, it was only a little death. I dont see why you're so worked up." 

Beau reaches through the crowd of people to punch him. "Shut up," she mutters. "We missed you." 

Molly finally looks up and passed all the people to see Keg and Clay standing apart from the rest of them. Trapped as he is, Molly can't go meet them, but he does call, "Feel free to join! I don't think we'll get to any introductions today."

Clay lumbers over and sticks a hand out. Jester and Nott break apart enough to allow Molly to take his hand. "Mollymauk Tealeaf at your service," he says with a toothy smile.

"Cadeuceus Clay, at yours." 

Molly looka over at Beau. "Replacing me already?" He teases. Beau's facw crumples and Molly realizes too late what he's said. 

"You're such an asshole," she huffs, breaking away to go stand by the cart. Yasha is not quite to willing to let go, but she squeezes his shoulder. 

"I am glad to have you back," she whispers, and heads over to Beau. 

"Let's set up camp," Nott suggests. Fjord is quick to take her up on the offer, so the two of them set out to make a fire.

Jester looks up at Molly. "Are you really okay?" 

"I am far better than I was ten minutes ago," he tells her. 

"When we are safer and have real beds, I am going to sleep with you," she announces. "But not like that. Just to make sure you're okay." 

"Wouldn't have it any other way." Molly pecks her on the forehead. She breaks away and heads over to where Fjord disappeared into the woods. 

The cleric is sitting on the cart, job done, and Keg is rummaging through their supplies to help set up a tent. Clay is helping, talking about how everyone could benefit from a nice cup of tea. 

All that is left is Caleb and Molly. Caleb has not let go of Molly. Molly's hand is still entwined with Caleb's hair at the back of his neck. Caleb coughs and pulls away, embarrassment finally flooding through his body. Molly seems shocked at the absence of contact and shivers. 

The coat is on the ground some feet away, neatly folded. Caleb grabs it and thrusts it out. Molly takes it, a hand running over the ruined embroidery on the back of the coat and the bloodstains darkening it. "Well," he sighs. "Its better than nothing." 

The coat settles around his shoulders once again and he finally looks right. Caleb wants to stand and stare, drink in the sight, but Molly's red eyes catch his and he looks away like a coward. Here is everything he has wanted for so long, and he is too afraid to take it. 

So instead, he says, "I really am glad you are alright." 

"As am I," Mollymauk says. "Though, I am dreadfully cold." 

Caleb starts. Molly only smiles at him and moves towards the fire that Fjord has started. Clay is hanging a teapot over it and filling it with snow, a tin of loose leaf tea in one hand. 

Jester scoots close to Molly's side as he sits and Nott clambers into hia lap, curling up like a cat. Caleb watches. The pit of worry in his stomach has abated and continues to wane as he watches Molly animatedly speak with Clay. 

But still he sighs. He joins the fire. There isnt much to eat besides Clay's tea, but the fire is warm and the company is better. He grips his cup of tea in cold hands and watches Molly over the rim of the glass. Molly, in his shredded bloody coat, wearing Caleb's tattered old scarf. He sighs. 

Eventually people settle down to sleep. There isnt much room in the cart, but they pull close and huddle together. Caleb takes first watch and sits close to the fire, warming his hands. 

Thankfully, the night seems still and quiet. The gods have given them a night's rest. In order to keep himself from dozing off, Caleb paces circles around the fire and the cart, careful not to wake anyone. He's staring off into the woods when someone stands up in the cart and hops over the side, landing roughly in the snow. 

Molly stands, dusting himself off. Caleb's heart clenches, but he takes several steps towards him. "You should be resting," he says. 

Molly looks up. "I was trying, but Jester was squeezing me so tight i couldn't breathe." He grins crookedly. "Figured I'd keep you company." 

"That's kind of you." 

Mollymauk shrugs. "I have to repay the favor somehow." 

"Favor?" Caleb echoes. "Meaning your resurrection? I would have done the same for anyone. You owe me nothing." 

"Not that," Molly says. "But thanks. I mean this:" and he pulls the scarf over his head, reaching over to wind it once around Caleb's neck. His hands don't leave the scarf and they rest gently against Caleb's chest. 

"I really was cold," Molly says. "Terribly so. Thank you for loaning it to me."

Caleb tries to form words, but his brain refuses to do so in this moment. "You are...welcome," he manages. "Did you - you heard everything?" 

"Every word," Molly says mournfully. He smiles sadly. "I am so sorry I left you all that way. I didn't want to." 

"You are here now. That's what matters." 

Molly opens his mouth to speak, but he seems hesitant. Shy, even, which is so Not Mollymauk that it startles Caleb. "Caleb...you said you cared for me. What did you mean?" 

Heat floods Caleb's face. He is suddenly very aware of Molly's hands on his chest and they way they stand so close together. "I meant...that I care for you," he says.

"In what way?" Molly is almost pleading with him. His red eyes are wide, searching. "Caleb." 

The way he says his name makes Caleb break. In a moment, Caleb has leaned forward and pulled Molly close, pressing their lips together in an awkward, desperate kiss. He pours every ounce lf emotion he still has left in that kiss - every moment of fear, every piece of fiery rage, every tear he had shed in those nine days. 

There is a moment where Molly doesn't kiss back. But then he sighs amd tilts his head so the kiss is not quite so awkward anymore. There is less clashing of teeth and more the gentle press of lips. When Molly pulls away, he buries his face in Caleb's shoulder and shudders. 

Together, they sink into the snow. Caleb realizes with a start that Molly is crying, and he places a hand on the back of Molly's head, entirely unsure of what to do. 

"I was dead," Molly sniffs. "And I was okay with that." 

"Are you still?" Caleb asks quickly, and feels Molly shake his head. He doesn't know what to say as Molly is still crying, but he does remember a song his mother used to sing when he was little. So he hums it, then finds his voice and sings it softly. 

Molly quiets after a moment. His breathing hitches every once in a while, but it's steadied somewhat. He still does not pull away, so Caleb keeps singing. 

"Caleb," he says, and Caleb stops. "Why didn't you tell me how you felt?" 

"I am a coward," Caleb says easily. "I am not brave. I could not tell you and risk you turning me away. And it has been a long time for me since I cared about anyone, I am not sure how to do it anymore." 

Mollymauk pulls back, his warm hands cupped around Caleb's face. There are tear tracks down his face, but he's smiling. "Oh Caleb, you silly man." And he kisses Caleb again. 

When they pull away, they hug again. Caleb buries his face in Molly's neck, careful of his horns, and whispers, "Gods, I am so glad you are back." 

Molly hums. His breath is warm on Caleb's skin, and he can feel his steady heartbeat through the coat. They are here. They are alive. In the morning, Caleb will have the time to explore what this means, but for now, sitting here in the snow is fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Tbh ill probably keep on writing widomauk fics even if molly never comes back. Thats denial baybee
> 
> The song caleb sings is "in the evening i want to go to sleep" which is the only german childrens song i know that would be appropriate for such a setting


End file.
